


Compartmentalization

by WillowPerpetua



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Brotp, F/M, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillowPerpetua/pseuds/WillowPerpetua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in the stolen car while Cap and Black Widow are on the run in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. Establishing boundaries and friendship between Steve and Natasha. Prequel to my upcoming Steve/Bucky fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compartmentalization

“Who would you like me to be?” she asked, voice deep, eyes dark beneath arched brows. Natasha stared him down, drinking in each of his ticks like water. Steve knew he was not a talkative man, but with Natasha, he did not need to be. Every glance toward the road, adjustment of his grip on the steering wheel, clench of his jaw, spoke volumes to her.  
He flicked his eyes back toward the passenger’s seat. Whether he had been out of the game for a few decades or not, Steve knew that look. Who would you like me to be? He thought the question over.  
Peggy.  
The name came to mind without conscious thought. He didn’t want it there. It was disrespectful. Peggy was dignified, refined, herself. She was still in the world, but not his world. The thought stung. No. Not Peggy.  
Bucky.  
Not sexually. Even in the cold nights in France, when he heard other men sneak into each other’s bunks, slip between the sheets, stifle the sounds in each other’s shoulders. Bucky had never been that person for Steve. He had been everything else. It was the confidant, the comrade, the confessor, that Steve missed. He missed knowing that there would always be someone to save, and always someone to save him in return. He knew that was not Natasha.  
No. Not Bucky, either.  
A friend.  
Steve decided, settling on the idea, steeling himself for a long day trying not to think about kissing her on the escalator. The feeling of her arm draped over his neck. His hand contouring the curve of her waist. What was the word Fury had used? Compartmentalization. He was going to have to work on that.  
Steve took a sharp left. 

Natasha felt the arrow on her neck, usually so light and familiar that she did not feel it, swing at the gravity of the turn and land heavily against her skin. She thought about Clint. She remembered the way he fumbled with the clasp, his deft hands clumsy in the days after New York. He put the necklace on her, kissed the back of her neck to make her shiver one more time for good measure, and disappeared out the window into the darkness. He would be gone for twelve weeks. The mission was need-to-know and she didn’t need to know.  
She swallowed hard and looked out the window, wondering if this was what rejection felt like.


End file.
